Disco Siren

I was the deejay.

She was the dancer.

 
The disco lights were sirens and

she was setting off all my alarms.

​

Twisting and turning to The Specials

like a flickering flame.

​

Every stitch of her mom jeans clinging

to her adorable movements -

shuffling the only two feet on the floor

not vying for a photo opportunity.

 

Her arms and wrists bent and

stirring like she was

drowning in open water.

 
She couldn't be more beautiful.